News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1887-12-22
THE STORY OF ALICE AYRES.

We see how wrotched are the parts
Played by misIeaders of the State,
And feel within our echOing hearts
The step of an advancing Fate.
| Yes! England's sun may set, alas
| May set in gloom, nor rise again;
| Her proud name, like a shadow pass
| Out of the thoughts and words of men.
! Still there is much not born to die;
| Great deeds can never be undone,
| Their splendor yet must fill our sky
Like stars, outlasting even the sun
Ten thousand years may come and go,
But not to move them from their place
Through them new lands will learn and kno'
Why God once shaped the English race.
Our children's children shall repeat
How, with half unconscious thrill,
The noble pulse of duty beat
In simple hearts, and armed the will,
We who yet love dear England we'll,
Must rise and link our hearts with theirs,
Perchance still living on to tell
OF those who died-like Alice Ayres.
Such deeds are EnSland's soul, and we,
Tossing aside each idler rhyme,
Should pour forth song to keep them free
From the concealing dust of time.
No tricks of style will this require;
Such stories should be plainly told;
Gems never lose their strength or fire,
Though tinsel settings may grow old.
The heavens are clear and calm, when 10,
A sudden voice rings through the nights
Men gather, hurrying to and fro,
With quivering lips and faces white;
A small, mean house bursts forth in flame
Within crash down the burning stairs
And, like picture in her frame,
Stands at the window Alice Ayres.
"Come down, come down." all cry aloud,
''We have the means to break your fall"
She does not seem to hear the crowd,
And gives no answer to their call.
Then firm, that evil hour to meet,
She forces through the narrow pane,
Soft clothes and bedding on the street,
Retires, and straight returns again.
A sleeping babe is in her arms,
Whom, with a watchful hand and head,
She drops in safety on the bed.
Slowly she steps back, in that gloom
Of strangling smoke to disappear,
Thence dragging from her instant doom
An older girl, who shrieks with fear
"Come down, come down." the shouts rise high,
Come down, or every hope is gone;
Save, save yourself" at length they cry,
Enough for Others have you DONE"
But no. there is a third one yet,
Death therefore must be faced once more;
The star of duty will not set
For her till the whole work is Ger,
All ended now-she might have time
Upon herself look to cast
But filled with that one thought sublime
God wills that it should be her last.
With feet astray and reeling brain,
Choked breath, dulled ears, and darkened ewes
She staGgers onward, but in vain
1t is too late-she falls and dies
And who was Alice Ayres ~ You ask:
A household drudge, who slavetl all day. I
hose joyIess years were one long task,
On stinted food and scanty pay,
'ut neither hunger, toll nor care
Could eer selfish thought instill,
'r quench spirit born to dare,
Or freeze that English heart and will.
rs we are well told, it is true
That England's worth may thence be shown,
That men and women, not few,
Like Alice, should be better known.
Enrich, some say, this golden year
CThat no such legend we may lose)
By building up their statues here"
So be it if the people choose.
But, cold and dead in all mems sight,
\ statue moulders and decays,
While soulless hirelings often blight
Grand hero names with formal praise.
No! Alice and her partners call
For that which chsels cannot give;
on the minds of all,
Such memories should not waste, but live,
Not cabined in one narrow place,
A local boast, mere street token;
But, like the air, diffused through space,
SO long as English words are spoken
TO be drawn in with each new breath
Where red and warm the old blood runs,
And DER the wide world conquering death,
Shared thus forever by our sons.
F. Fl. DOYLE.